


Golden Days

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But nothing much happens so, Fluff, General watery fun, Harry is probably like 16, Harry's super in love, M/M, Pining, Snogging, So kinda underage?, Swimming, in the water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: "You can't swim?" Sirius' voice was incredulous, like he couldn't quite believe it. Harry flushed self-consciously, fidgeting, and shook his head no. He'd only been recounting an afternoon after the exams, a warm day when the Gryffindors had decided to go out by the lake, when his lack of swimming ability had come up. He hadn't realised it was that big of a deal.And yet, Sirius seemed to think it was. He was frowning. "Of course, nobody taught you," he muttered, then lit up again."I know!" he exclaimed. "I can teach you!"





	Golden Days

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [sujing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sujing/pseuds/sujing) in the [SirryFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SirryFest) collection. 

> Written for the Sirry ficfest for a prompt by sujing <s>oh look I'm only like an hour late</s>. The prompt was:
> 
> In another universe where Harry isn't forced to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, Sirius teaches Harry how to swim over the summer for fun. 
> 
> It's too bad Harry can't focus because of his godfather's hot bod.
> 
> He doesn't get to admire the view for long, however—Sirius is quick to take advantage of his distraction and start a splashing war.
> 
> Thanks to [belledejour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belledejour/pseuds/belledejour) for betaing this!

"You can't swim?" Sirius' voice was incredulous, like he couldn't quite believe it. Like he'd never met someone who couldn't swim before. Harry flushed self-consciously, fidgeting, and shook his head no. He'd only been recounting an afternoon after the exams, a warm day when the Gryffindors had decided to go out by the lake to sit in the sun and splash water at each other, when his lack of swimming ability had come up. He hadn't realised it was that big of a deal.

And yet, Sirius seemed to think it _ was _. He was frowning. "Of course, nobody taught you," he muttered, then lit up again.

"I know!" he exclaimed. "I can teach you!"

There was a long pause. Harry waited for Sirius to elaborate, but the man just stared at him sunnily, his grin excited and eager as a puppy. Harry didn't want to be the one to burst his bubble, but how on earth would Sirius be able to teach him how to swim with nowhere to _ do it _?

"There's no pool," Harry pointed out eventually, reluctantly.

Sirius wasn't discouraged. "There's a lake, though," he mused. "It's on the far side of the property, but it's still under the Fidelius, so really, nobody can complain."

"Have you been out there?"

Sirius went quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Couldn't be bothered to deal with the garden," he told Harry. "The weeds are probably sentient out there by now, what with the time and dark magic and stuff. But," he added, his eyes sparking with enthusiasm. "There's a reason to _ now _. I'll have it cleaned up in no time, and then I'm going to teach you how to swim."

Harry looked at Sirius' bright grin and saw interest he hadn't in so long. Sirius seemed like he was actually looking _ forward _ to something, like the shadows of mundanity and the irritation of boredom were slipping away from him. Despite his trepidations, Harry couldn't take that away from Sirius.

So he smiled, and said okay.

* * *

The problem wasn't that Harry was scared of the water, or that he didn't want to learn how to swim. He'd _ love _ to know how—it seemed like fun, as Harry had always liked the idea of being able to wade in the water with confidence. No, the reason Harry felt apprehensive was because he dreaded having to spend an extended period of time with his godfather in swimming trunks. It was already hell on his feelings, on his patience, to see Sirius stripping off his shirt as he worked in the garden. Harry found himself, on more than one occasion, admiring the way the sun bronzed Sirius' pale skin day by day, the way the sweat gleamed on his chest and forehead, the way his tattoos moved every time his muscles flexed. He felt himself becoming impatient, wanting so badly to touch Sirius but not being allowed to, wanting to kiss the proud smile off Sirius' face every time he cleared another patch of tough weeds and having to stop himself.

And then, the day. The lake in question had been uncovered after a full week and a half of working their arses off, but in Harry's opinion, it was worth it. Despite the state of the garden, the lake water was clear and clean, clear enough that Harry could see the pebbles and small plants at the bottom despite the depth. The first time they came upon it was in the afternoon, the sun orange and low against the horizon, painting the water in purples and yellows and all the colours in-between.

He'd been exhausted, but the sight of the beautiful water, surrounded by lush green grass and tall trees, refreshed him almost as if he'd actually taken a dunk. He was sweaty and aching and his hands and feet were sore, but—as he stood on the banks of the lake—he felt like he was in another world.

He almost couldn't believe they were in the middle of London. The leaves rustled in the breeze, the fading heat cooling Harry down comfortably, and he felt all his misgivings fade with the sunlight. Sirius stood beside him, silent for once; his presence a constant pleasure that made Harry feel like he was constantly being electrocuted, so mildly and softly that it felt _ good _.

In that moment, Harry felt his irritation, his worries and heartaches and frustrations slide from him like water off a duck's back. Tomorrow, Sirius would teach him how to swim, and Harry wouldn't let himself worry about anything but enjoying his company.

* * *

They start out right after breakfast the next morning, when the day was still a little cool but the heat was already making their skin damp with sweat. Harry stepped out of the house and immediately breathed in the fresh air with relish, grateful that—even if he couldn't leave the property—he could at least still enjoy the trees and the wind and the grass.

Sirius didn't seem inclined to take in the garden the same way, though to be fair, calling it a garden was almost insulting. He stepped out behind Harry, then suddenly tapped him hard on the shoulder and yelled, "Last one to the water is a flobberworm!" before running off past him, his arms working in tandem with his legs.

Harry only took a split second before he shouted, "Hey!" and chased Sirius, gaining on him quickly. He passed Sirius within seconds, tapping his shoulder teasingly and grinning victoriously. His triumph didn't last long. As soon as Sirius had reached him he pounced, knocking Harry down into the grass and running his fingers along his ribcage where he knew Harry was most sensitive.

"Stop, stop, abuse!" Harry shrieked, trying and failing to hold Sirius' hands back, but no amount of bucking and thrashing knocked Sirius off his hips.

"You know what to say," he laughed. When Harry shook his head stubbornly, trying desperately to keep his giggling at bay, Sirius shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to me, darling," and he tickled Harry even harder.

He didn't hold out much longer, Sirius fingers skilled at making him give in. "Alright, mercy, mercy!" Harry gasped, and finally managed to grab Sirius' wrists when the man stilled.

They lay there, gasping, for a long while. Sirius' face was flushed red and pink, his skin hot under Harry's hands and his weight over Harry's body so delicious he was afraid of giving himself away. Sirius' lips were parted, his eyes bright and happy, and for a second Harry wondered what it would be like just to lie here like this, Sirius' mouth on his neck, just lazily kissing and touching and loving like they had all the time in the world.

But then Sirius got up, sighing and stretching, and Harry tried to pretend he wasn't in love.

He followed after Sirius, shucking off his shirt and shorts so he was only in the swimming trunks Sirius had brought him while his godfather did the same. He tried not to focus on the shape of Sirius' back, the way his muscles flexed as he walked and bent and slipped into the water. Instead he looked down, folding his clothes neatly and out of the way, and moved into the water after Sirius, ready to learn.

* * *

Sirius' hands were warm,rough and strong on his back and stomach, his voice sweet and even warmer than his hands—like hot tea in the evenings, or a soft towel after a shower. He seemed endlessly patient as he taught Harry how to move his arms and legs, how to tilt his head to breathe, to keep his fingers together and find his rhythm. It was only when Harry pushed his head out of the water after sinking again, water dripping from his hair into his eyes, that he caught Sirius grinning, and scowled at him.

"It's not funny!" He exclaimed, trying not to focus on the way water glistened on Sirius' torso, or the way the sun highlighted his every muscle in gold.

"I wish I had a camera," Sirius laughed, completely unapologetic. "You looked about as threatening as a drowned kitten, sweetheart."

Harry flushed, splashing his hand into the water a little too hard. The resulting splash went wider than previously expected, and Harry watched as the water hit Sirius' face. His godfather froze, a very noticeable _ glint _ entering his eye.

"Sirius?" Harry ventured, but Sirius didn't reply. He waded nearer, nearer, until he was standing right at Harry's shoulder, looking down into his face, his expression inscrutable.

"Harry," he said, his voice low, toneless. Harry gulped, unsure whether to reach out or say something, when Sirius pushed his arms up and out of the water and splashed Harry right in the face.

Harry spluttered, then glared at Sirius' smug face. Granted, he had already been wet, so it didn't make much of a difference, but still. It was the principle of the matter. He turned to face Sirius and slammed his arms into the water even harder, so that Sirius' long, beautiful hair—which he'd kept out of the way in a bun at the back of his head, was soaking. Sirius gasped, outraged, and promptly returned fire. He tried to maintain an offended expression, but his smile stretched helplessly when he heard Harry laughing. Harry turned and ran, slow in the water, and when Sirius followed he tried pushing the water back at him to discourage his advance. Not that it helped any.

Soon, both of them were exhausted and soaked, the game ending when Harry managed to climb onto Sirius from behind and force him under until he gave. Harry's chest hurt from laughing, his cheeks aching from smiling for so long. He looked up at Sirius, who was grumbling as he shook his hair loose, and knew he'd treasure this day for years.

* * *

Later, they sat in the water, calming from the rush of noon and the determined battle they'd fought, and just talked. Harry wasn't quite sure how the subject had turned to his love life, but Sirius seemed quite interested in what he'd gotten up to. Harry couldn't help but wonder what _ Sirius _ had gotten up to at his age. Surely he hadn't had much time for rendezvous or relationships _ now _. Thinking about the man going on dates with other people, Harry couldn't help but feel a tiny bit glad that Sirius couldn't leave Number Twelve, even as he felt guilty about it.

"So," Sirius asked, completely oblivious to what was going on in Harry's mind. "Got any pretty witches in your life?"

Harry swallowed, smiling awkwardly. He wanted so badly to ask Sirius the same thing, establish whether or not he was single, as if Harry had a _ chance _ either way. He didn't, and just shook his head, trying not to imagine Sirius with his arm around some tall, sophisticated lady, the same grin on his face that Harry felt was reserved only for him.

Sirius was quiet for a second, in a way that felt important. He waded a little closer, looking at Harry's face carefully.

Then, "Any wizards?"

Harry blinked at Sirius, surprised, and then flushed when the question caught up with him. He tried to say something, but instead just looked at Sirius so helplessly he felt a little ashamed. But Sirius didn't seem too concerned—in fact, he laughed at Harry companionably, like Harry had pleased him in some way, or said something that hit the mood just right.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he reassured, and, "I get it." He went quiet again, and then repeated himself. "So, is there someone special in your life?"

And Harry felt it bubbling up inside him, rising until it felt like a weight in his neck that was hard to swallow past. He looked at Sirius, sunlight on his skin and stubble across his chin, hair down in gently drying waves around his face, eyes soft and bright all at once, and he couldn't keep it in.

"There _ is _ someone," he said, and Harry felt so open, so vulnerable, it felt like time stood still. Sirius looked at him intently, so much so that his ears felt hot with attention, his head heavy with the stillness of the moment. Harry had been told multiple times that he was absolutely oblivious, that he couldn't pick up on even the most obvious signs that someone liked him. Ron often mentioned how such and such a girl had clearly been hitting on him, and Hermione liked to go on about how it was so obvious Draco Malfoy's behaviour wasn't based purely on distaste, or even rivalry. Harry had never seen the things his friends had, had never looked at a person and gone 'oh, they _ like _ me,' but Sirius clearly didn't have the same problem.

He took one look at Harry's face, and the smile dropped off his face like a stone. Harry's heart stuttered painfully, but Sirius' face was so soft, pained, as if he'd been cut a while ago and was just now realising it.

"Oh Harry," he said, so quietly Harry barely heard it. "Sweetheart, we _ can't _."

Harry felt hot all over, his ears buzzing and his mouth dry, but Sirius didn't say they shouldn't. He didn't say 'no' or 'I don't want to' or get out of the water and leave him alone with his twisted desires, and it gave the desperate want inside Harry some semblance of hope.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice coming out much smaller, much needier than he'd wanted it to. He winced, looked away, but Sirius didn't flinch. He was so gentle, his hands cupping Harry's face like he was delicate, and it hurt all the more for it.

"Oh baby boy," he said, completely unlike the brash, loud Gryffindor Harry knew and yet still completely himself, a side of Sirius that Harry had never seen before. He both revelled in the knowledge and wished it had never come in this way.

"You know why we can't," he said, and Harry shook his head and pushed up, his wet back cold where the air hit it, and pressed his mouth to Sirius'.

"I don't care," he whispered against Sirius' mouth, "I don't care, please don't send me away."

Sirius didn't move, his body trembling with some urge held back. Harry slid his fingers down Sirius shoulders, broad and strong, to his muscled biceps—he'd started working out to relieve his boredom during the school year, and Harry had to admit he loved the results. His nails scratched lightly at Sirius skin, making him shudder, and a low whine escaped from his lips. Harry looked up, and Sirius had his eyes clenched so tightly, he looked like a little boy wishing his troubles away.

Harry slid his hands into Sirius', lacing their fingers together, pressed himself closer until they were just shy of touching like he was too afraid to take that last step. Maybe he was.

"Harry," Sirius said again, his voice sounding strangled, "darling, I'm not _ right _ for you "

"I trust you," Harry breathed, wanting to kiss Sirius, but wanting him to look at Harry more. "You'd take care of me, I know you would."

"_ I _ don't trust me," Sirius said, but it was moot at this point. Harry was determined, Sirius clenched his fingers around Harry's hands like he could barely keep himself under control, so Harry took a chance and kissed him again.

The change was sudden. It was like something had snapped inside of Sirius, because he grabbed Harry's head in both hands and kissed him deep and hard. He bent Harry back, his tongue licking along the inside of his mouth until Harry was gasping, until he felt like he could faint. He clutched at Sirius' shoulders desperately, trying not to fall, losing himself in the way Sirius made his entire body buzz with pleasure.

Sirius pressed a hand to his back, pushing him closer until there was no space between them, until their bare chests were pressed together tightly. Sirius' hand was on his nape, keeping him in place as he kissed him deep and slow, teasing the skin there until his mouth was open and hungry. His thigh was between Harry's legs, thick and hard and firm, and he couldn't help the way arousal pooled in between his legs at the feel of Sirius' strong arms around his body.

He was afraid he would fall, his back bent so far he could feel the surface of the water against his back, soaking the tips of his hair. But Sirius' hands were firm and strong, and Harry couldn't help the absolute _ trust _ that enveloped him, a firm belief in Sirius to keep him up and afloat even as he lost himself.

They seemed to kiss for an age, Sirius' mouth ravenous and then soft, sweet, _ reverent _. He moved his lips against Harry's like a dance, like breathing didn't matter as much as tasting and feeling and touching Harry.

Later, they'd worry about how to tell people, about hiding it. Sirius would feel guilty and Harry would feel angry, afraid, wonder why it was so hard to love the man he loved. But right now all that mattered was summer's heat and the cool water lapping around their hips, and the scratch of Sirius' stubble against his cheek.


End file.
